


Like Energy or Water

by auselysium



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auselysium/pseuds/auselysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's amazing how love is born.  Something, that comes out of nothing.  Only to become everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Energy or Water

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based somewhat on the experiences with my first love. So this is dedicated to Matt.

It is amazing how love is born.

_Where you headed?_

_No place special._

_I can change that._

Something, that comes out of nothing. Only to become everything.

_…And all I could think was, please don't let anything happen to him. I love you._

Love, when it is new, is electric. Burning white hot and blue. Heat from the very center of the flame. Forging flesh and soul in an invincible bond.

_It doesn't matter…it's only time._

Love is malleable. Able to change shapes to fit into whatever mold is required of it.

_I swear to God, I heard gun fire outside my apartment last night._

_Don't be so fucking melodramatic._

_And the hallway smells like boiled cabbage._

_But you love it, don't you?_

_Yeah…I do._

And yet, even though love is made to endure, sometimes it cannot.

_Sometimes I feel like all I ever do is miss you. And it just hurts so fucking much, because I love you, Brian. I love you so much._

_I know._

_But I can't go on like this… never knowing when the situation is going to change. I mean, it's been years and you may never move here..._

_I know…_

_But then I think about the other choice and it doesn't feel any better…_

_Justin..._

_In fact it feels a million times worse._

_Justin!_

_What?_

_Is it time?_

Love burns you up on the inside.

_I miss you._

Love ridicules your loss.

_I miss you, too._

Love refuses to let you go.

_Sometimes I think we're just being so fucking stupid…_

_Brian. There's no other choice._

But love does not vanish. If anything, it entices you. Calls to you. Pulling you to places that make your heart scream with familiarity. The beautiful comfort that becomes love's sweetest sin.

_We can't keep doing this._

_Why not?_

_Because it's not right._

_When have you ever cared about the ethics of fucking? Besides, I told you, we've been on like, two officials date. He doesn't matter, Brian._

_But it's not about….wait, what's his name again?_

_Devon._

_Right. Devon. It isn't about him._

_Then what are you worrying about? Just come back to bed. Your flight doesn't leave for another four hours._

_I can't…keep coming to you like this. Being with you, having it feel like nothing has changed. Only to leave and know that everything has changed. It's not fair, Justin. To you or to me._

Love leaves you broken and hopeless. Before it leaves you numb. Breath fills your lungs. Blood moves through your veins. Life happens while your mind continues to grapple with what it all means.

Then time comes into play. Saving you from yourself. Because it cannot heal all wounds, but it can heal these.

_So how's it going, Taylor?_

_Great. Paris has been amazing._

_I'm sure. Those pictures you emailed me were really good._

_Which ones did I send you?_

_The one's of the river._

_Right, of course. Those did turn out well, but then again, anyone can be a photographer in Paris. And what about you? I hear Kinnetik just can't be stopped._

_It hasn't been easy. New York is a killer market._

_And you're the one doing the killing, right?_

_Damn straight._

Love allows you to celebrate his joy, even when it is someone else who causes it. Love lets you take a step back and see things objectively. All the little moments of your past that lead you to your present. And love lets you realize, that maybe things are the way they are supposed to be after all.

_So what's his name?_

_Henri._

_O la la._

_So cliche, I know. But we've been together for about 2 years. It's legal over there so, we're going to make it official this spring._

_Congratulations, sunshine._

_Thanks, Brian._

_What does he do?_

_He's a musician. But don't worry…he's a jazz bass player. Nothing like Ethan._

_Thank god for that. Yeah, tell me about it. He's a lot more like you actually. Cocky, brazen, desperately handsome._

_Mmmhmmm…_

_And what about you? Are you seeing anyone these days?_

_There is someone.  He's …been good for me._

_I'm so glad to hear that, Bri._

Love adapts. Emerging all the brighter in its new form. But the memory of its former shape lingers on.

_You were my first love, you know._

_44 years old and finally a sentimental drunk._

_I'm not drunk and I'm not being sentimental. And don't say that number._

_You were mine, too. In case you hadn't caught on then._

_But you were seventeen. I was twenty-nine._

_That makes a huge difference._

_You loved me when I was seventeen?_

_Sure. I still do, in a strange way._

_It's not strange at all. There will always be a part of me that loves you, Brian_.

Because true love never fades. Other loves may mask it. Surpassing it in strength or length. But like energy or water - love exists in perpetuity. A ceaseless cycle, that once started continues on, never stopping, only ever changing form.


End file.
